


Come Here

by shootertron



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Doggy Style, Fluff, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, tiny dick sub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-23 01:35:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12495516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shootertron/pseuds/shootertron
Summary: It didn’t take long for Turmoil to coax Deadlock into position.





	Come Here

“Come here.”

It didn’t take long for Turmoil to coax Deadlock into position: head facing the wall, knees on the berth, aft presented to his commander.

Turmoil admired this sight: Deadlock with back facing him, a marvel of construction. His cockpit was a beautiful ruby red, and the long pauldrons on his shoulders almost like wings. Turmoil gently stroked the lines of Deadlock’s belly, sensing the other’s eagerness. He wrapped a hand around Deadlock’s neck, feeling it - narrow and delicate in his clutch.

He could crush it if he so chose, but that would be such a waste.  
Deadlock knew this too, knew how dangerous a mech Turmoil was, but it excited him that Turmoil was too attached to his Second to kill him.

“You are gorgeous.”

The Commander’s hand moved down, between Deadlock’s legs. The panel clicked open without hesitation. Turmoil reached inside. Deadlock’s valve was slick and hot, and his nub was engorged with arousal. Turmoil’s own interface panel was already open, the thick, black spike fully erect and lit up with blue biolights. A drop of precum glistened at the tip.

Knees planted on the berth, gripping Deadlock around the waist, he slowly thrust in. Deadlock’s valve hugged his spike, gobbling up each ridge until he was fully sheathed.

Although they had done this many times before, Deadlock never got sick of it, the long sigh of pleasure at feeling the other inside him, reaching the deepest part of him.

His engine purred and the energon rushed to his face and valve lips as Turmoil rubbed his spike nub tenderly, coating it with his own lubricant. The tank’s other hand grabbed Deadlock’s wrists and pulled his arms in front of him.

Turmoil’s entire frame rumbled in triumph with each thrust. Deadlock’s valve was so hot and tight around his humongous spike, it was like a hug, so soft and plush. Deadlock grunted as the spike stretched him wide open. Not many mechs could take a spike this size, and Deadlock was proud how his body sheathed Turmoil's connector so perfectly.

“Your body adores me,” Turmoil said, amused.

“Adores your spike, that is.” Deadlock snarked back.

Turmoil chuckled, a low rumble of a chuckle, his voice deep and resonant. He rubbed Deadlock’s chest, where the Brand was, over Deadlock’s spark. Imagined it whirling like a miniature Sun.

From the racer’s EM field he could sense happiness and contentment along with feelings of lust. The ridges of his spike rubbed against Deadlock’s front wall sensors, caressing them. Deadlock seemed to positively _ache_ with want whenever the two of them coupled like this.

“Faster,” Deadlock said.  
“Patience, Deadlock.”  
Turmoil was slow and steady when he could, relishing Deadlock’s pleasure as his own. Still, Deadlock preferred speed, like his alt mode.

Deadlock found himself pressed harder against the berth - Turmoil was strong mech, and even if Turmoil took care not to crush his adjutant, Deadlock could feel that tremendous weight pounding into him. His valve clenched pleasurably as the ridges of Turmoil’s spike rubbed back and forth. Soon, the two of them were too caught up in their pleasure, exchanging noises.

“Yes!”  
“Harder!”  
“Ah”  
“Primus!”  
“Aaaah,”  
“NNnn”  
“Mm”

Slowly but surely, Deadlock reached overload, quivering beautifully in Turmoil’s grip, legs shaking and hips bucking forward, pauldroned shoulders drawn back, temporarily forgetting all of his worldly troubles. Soon after, Turmoil finished as well, filling Deadlock with hot transfluid.

Turmoil loomed over his adjutant for a while, holding him steady. This was their post-interface routine. By the time the two of them were finished, Deadlock was exhausted, and did not protest when Turmoil pulled him backwards into an embrace, spike still sheathed inside.

Deadlock was too well, tough for cuddling most of the time. Too concerned with fighting the enemy, and protecting his reputation as the most fearsome of Decepticons. Things to do and mechs to meet. A thousand obligations and preoccupations. But here in this moment Turmoil had Deadlock all to himself.

Turmoil rocked Deadlock side to side, hugging him close. Deadlock pouted in a manner that Turmoil would have described as “adorable!” if he could see it. His valve clenched around the limp spike, perhaps hoping for another round - Turmoil overloading him in his sleep, or giving him a gentle good morning frag. The racer purred, loud and low, shuttering his eyes. He soon drifted off into recharge, inner chamber and heart full of warmth.


End file.
